


low-life(s)

by orangequest



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gang Violence, Gun Violence, M/M, Modern Era, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8602465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangequest/pseuds/orangequest
Summary: You never know how low a human will sink until you take away every bit of power and autonomy they have.





	

“Well, this sucks,” Ventus grumbled as he plopped down on the curb, bringing his knees up to his chest and letting out a deep sigh. Not only was an hour out from the house he shared with his twin brother--but he was all alone, too. He didn’t get it, Terra _promised_ he would drive him home around midnight, but in the midst of celebrating--”agh, who cares!”

He tried to make himself not care, but the trains that made Twilight Town a famous transit hub never ran after midnight. There weren’t any buses around either, according to his phone. At least Uber prices were down; maybe he would get home broke and bitter, but at least he’d be home where he could _safely_ stew in his frustration and anxieties. If there was still mix in the cabinet, he might even make himself some hot chocolate and sit in the kitchen, wondering if he’d at least get an apology text.

A quick peek at the Uber app indicated his driver was only a minute away. Ven stared at the screen for a moment, and then locked his phone, stashing it in the front pouch of his pullover hoodie. He cut his gaze from one end of the street to the other, hoping to hear an engine or see headlights but except for him, the whole block was abandoned. Twilight Town gave him the creeps, especially this late at night when all its citizens retreated into the safety of their Spanish Colonial townhouses.   

Just as he was about to release another, more agonized sigh, a car as black as the night itself came zipping around the corner at full speed, tires with blood red rims shrieking against the asphalt. He leaped to his feet and backed away from the curb, blue eyes following the speed demon until it pulled up before him. The windows were tinted, and in the passenger’s side Ven could clearly see his own shocked and somewhat frightened reflection.

That window rolled down slowly, a perfect dramatic reveal for its driver.

Not that there was much to see. The inside of the car was darker than the street; the only light came from a street lamp fifty yards away. Trap music came through the speakers, growing faint as the volume was turned down by a gloved hand. The silhouette of the driver told him he was human, and little else until the stranger spoke. “Backseat’s full. You’ll have to sit up front.”

“You’re my driver…” Ven exhaled, eyes wide in disbelief. He must have jinxed himself, thinking tonight couldn’t get any worse. Now he had to sit up _front_ with a reckless asshole who thought colored rims were cool.

“No shit, Sherlock.” He heard the telltale _click!_ of the door being unlocked, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it. “Look, if you want to stay here, that’s up to you. You already paid me.”

 _Shit, he’s right,_ Ventus thought, scanning the empty street and feeling that special brand of homesickness--the one that only comes once the party’s over. Reluctantly, he opened the passenger side door and slid into the warm, black leather seat. The driver rolled his window up, waited for him to buckle up, and the instant he heard the seatbelt click into place, slammed his foot on the gas.

Ven clung to the only things he could, the panic bar above his open window and the dashboard in front of him. He held on for dear life, his knuckles turning ghost-white as they rounded sharp corners and zoomed downhill on the route to his house. The sound of the GPS was faint, drowned out by the sound of his heart beating in his ears. Then they pulled onto the highway. Ven relaxed just a little, relieved that the car wouldn’t be swerving left and right. The lighting was much better now, and he could actually see his Uber driver’s face, sort of; he wore dark aviators (which made Ventus feel even _more_ unsafe) and had dark, unruly hair that stuck out every which way. His shapely lips were somewhat chapped and the spot just beneath his bottom lip was doubly pierced, his studs glittering with the highway lighting. “It’s rude to stare.”

Ventus felt his face burning, and turned his head to look out the window instead. The silence between them resumed, and he groaned internally. Could this be any more awkward? He snuck a peek at the “full” backseat and found that his driver had spoken true. It seemed the mystery man had all his worldly possessions in the back; Ven saw everything from a holey, folded-up lawn chair leaning against a Keurig, to a crate of miscellaneous beauty supplies with a corded landline sticking out of it. Shoved against the back window were a ratty, discolored pillow and a thin blanket. Just as he was about to break the silence, the driver beat him to it.

“Aren’t you Terra’s little friend?”

“Um… yeah,” he replied, flicking his eyes over to the other man for a brief moment. A slight smirk played on his lips, and he gradually slowed down to just ten over the speed limit. Ven let go of the panic bar, dropping both hands to his sides. “...What?”

“Nothing, it’s just.” The man paused, laughter threatening to burst from within. Ven didn’t see what was so funny. “You know he ditched you for a reason, right?”

“What are you talking about?” He felt the urge to open his door, tumble out and walk home. Wasn’t there some sort of Uber protocol about _not_ insulting your passengers?

“He invited you to be nice and you know it. In reality, he’s leaving you behind. By the time you catch up, he’ll be a different person.”

His mouth fell open, but no sound came out. He balled his hands into tight fists, fingernails leaving tiny crescent-moons in his palms. “I didn’t pay you to start a fight! What do you know, anyway?” he forced out as they merged right onto the exit ramp.

“Oh, grow up. I know more than you, obviously; you’ve never been outside your safe little bubble.” the man said coolly. He pressed his foot harder onto the gas pedal, picking back up where he left off. The GPS seemed unnecessary, like he knew where he was going. Ventus saw the home he shared with his brother and almost cried from relief.  Though less than half an hour had passed, this felt like the longest car ride in human history. Like the cruel person he seemed to be, the man slammed his foot on the brakes, bringing them to a sudden halt in front of the Highwind house. Ven’s seatbelt bit into his skin as he lurched forward, and his heart pounded like he had just ran a mile, but he was alive and home. Just as he unbuckled and put his hand on the door, the Uber driver from Hell spoke again.

“Tell Terra that Vanitas says hello. And get out of my car.”

Roxas was sitting at the bay window that faced out towards the street when his elder brother trudged in with resentment written all over his face. “That doesn’t look like Terra’s car. Who brought you home?” he asked, leaning his forehead against the cool glass. His expression was unreadable, but he bit his nails--something he only did when he was nervous

Ventus walked up to the window, apalled to discover that the sleek black sedan still lingered, lights on and engine running. He couldn’t see what the driver--Vanitas--was doing, but he didn’t like the sight. That guy was sketchy enough for an Uber driver, but after his callous remarks, he was definitely unwelcome. Ven gently pulled his brother from the window and closed the curtains. “I called an Uber,” he explained in a hushed voice. 

“Nice, you let a total creep know where we live,” Roxas grumbled. “I always wanted to live out an episode of _Criminal Minds_.”

“Shut up, I didn’t mean to!” Ven hissed, covering his face with his hands. “I just wanted to go home. He was normal until we were almost here! Then he brought up Terra and was like ‘tell him Vanitas said hello.’” Ven imitated the emotionless nonchalance with which he spoke. He was so caught up in his frustration with the entire evening, though, that he didn’t notice the way his brother’s face changed when he heard the name."I think he wanted to start a fight with me!"  
  
  
"You? In a fight with anyone? That'd be the day," Roxas joked, though he looked troubled by something.

* * *

“I’ve got eyes on him now. You never mentioned he had a twin,” Vanitas commented, watching said twin retreat inside the safety of his cute, single-story home. His brother, Roxas, stared through the window, probably wondering aloud whose car was parked outside his house. If his twin was as smart as he looked, he might just get away with feigned ignorance. Ha! If his twin was as smart as he looked, he would have no idea that his brother was a member of the Organization’s Twilight Town chapter.

“I knew you'd figure it out on your own. Did you see them together?” his associate asked.

Vanitas drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, and frowned when the twin pulled Roxas away from the window and closed the curtains, cutting off his view inside the house. “No. I just know your boytoy would never set foot in my car. He hates my driving.”

“ _Everyone_ hates your driving.”

“Everyone that _knows me_ ,” he reminded him. “Regardless, I’m handling it. You know where to meet me.”

Without waiting for a response, he hung up and slid his phone into his back pocket. He shut off the engine and waited. When he saw the curtains move again, he exited the car and strolled up the walkway to the front door. He knocked twice. When there was no response, he knocked again, with more force. “I think you forgot something in my car,” he called, hooking his thumbs in his front pockets and rocking on his heels until the polished mahogany door opened just a crack.

At first he couldn’t tell which twin the face belonged to, but when he looked closely, the deer-in-headlights expression could only belong to Roxas’ brother. “I didn’t forget anything. Go away.”

“Fine, fine, I guess this is my phone now,” Vanitas sighed, pulling an iPhone 5C in a cutesy ice cream case from his jacket pocket. He dangled it just within reach and then snatched his hand back before he could grab it. “Ah, ah, ah! If you want me to give you something, you have to give me something.”

The brother pulled his face from the door, silent, and then came back with a scowl that reached his eyes. “You want me to do you a favor…” Vanitas returned the phone to his pocket, a mischievous grin splitting his features. “Like what?”

“Well,” the other began, drawing out the word as long as he could, “How about you let me in…” He eased his foot through the opening in the door, and more or less forced his way in. “Maybe get me something to drink…” The door shut behind him with a faint click as he leaned back against it. “Just some water is fine,” he added, aggravatingly smug. _And why shouldn’t I be?_

Before the other man could object, his real target emerged from the next room. “Don’t be rude, Ven. It’s just a glass of water,” he said, blue eyes dark as he smiled a tight, forced smile. _Ven_ hesitated, but eventually left the two alone. “You need to leave.”

“Now, is that any way to treat a guest?” Vanitas asked, pushing his sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head and with his other hand, drawing a .30 caliber pistol from its holster inside his leather jacket. Roxas froze, and slowly raised his hands, fear in his eyes but not his expression. Never one to waste time, his assailant came towards him and pressed the muzzle of his handgun to his forehead. “You’re coming with me.” Golden eyes blazed, but with excitement rather than animosity.

He licked his lips, throat dry, and closed his eyes. “Or what?” he dared to ask, the gun cool on his sweat-slicked face. That elicited a laugh from Vanitas, who circled around him, moving the gun to press it deep into his temple. He ghosted his fingertips from his neck, to his shoulders, over his chest, bringing his victim close enough to feel his heart beating as wildly as his own.

The sound of glass shattering drew the attention of both men. Ven made no sound, only stood there, shaking at the sight of the firearm aimed at his twin’s head. “Since you asked,” Vanitas whispered so only Roxas could hear, “you’re coming with me.” He jerked the muzzle away from his forehead and pointed the weapon at his twin brother. “Or else.”

“Ven, go back to the kitchen.”

“Are you crazy? No! I--”

“Ven, _go_.”

Vanitas patiently waited for him to disappear, and when he was out of sight, pressed his gun into Roxas’ back, urging him forward. As they crossed the threshold, he reached into his pocket and tossed Ven’s iPhone into the house. Once he had Roxas in the passenger seat, and himself in the driver’s seat, he retrieved his phone to call his contact. “I got him. Meet me ASAP.”

With his pistol still aimed at his passenger, he started his car and zipped out of the upper-middle class neighborhood. He took his hand off the wheel and switched on his police scanner, his prediction confirmed when dispatch called in a possible 207 on Departure Street involving an armed male suspect last seen driving a black sedan with--wait for it--red rims. “No Heart warned you about driving a flashy car,” Roxas murmured. Vanitas gave him a particularly nasty glare before speeding up, his car the only one on the street until they entered his neck of the woods: the dilapidated, desolute part of Radiant Garden whence all the low-life criminal scum seemed to crawl out like roaches from cracks in the wall--Hollow Bastion, more often called The Hollows.

It was even nastier than the holes in which Roxas spent his early years, the destitution much older and deeply rooted than that of Twilight Town’s train tunnel communities. The graffiti-covered buildings they passed were brick and mortar; ancient buildings repurposed over and over until the ground swallowed and reclaimed them. Huge pipes jutted out from the ground, blowing steam or exhaust from the factories which provided the only “legit” work for its inhabitants. Vanitas turned from an asphalt road onto a dirt one, the car slowing down significantly as they approached their destination.

“And you guys insist you’re white-collar,” Roxas quipped, rolling his eyes at the sight of the worn-down warehouse.  Another car, this one a familiar shock of red against the night, was parked just by the entrance. He pulled up next to that car and shut off his engine, taking his keys from the ignition and pushing his shades back down to conceal his eyes. The muzzle of the gun had sapped the warmth from Roxas' skin and he could feel the difference when he returned the firearm to its holster inside his jacket. He wouldn’t dare try to run; he knew whose turf he was on now. “The least you could do is _try_ to clean this place up.”

Vanitas walked around to the other side of the car and jerked the door open. He grabbed Roxas roughly by the arm and yanked him out. He glared, but didn’t fight back. “If it bothers you that much, you’re welcome to clean it up,” Vanitas jeered, giving him a not-so-gentle push inside of the warehouse. When he steadied himself, he saw who came to meet them: an old friend of his, Axel; an old friend of Axel’s, Saix; and an old friend of Saïx’s. Roxas felt the blood drain from his face, but his captor’s strong grip kept him from falling. Standing next to Saïx, his bleached silver hair like a curtain around his shoulders, was Xemnas. The corners of his lips curved up slightly, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to shrink into a tiny ball.

“Why did you go, Roxas?” His deep, baritone was deceivingly warm. He knew better; he was in deep shit. “We missed you. We need you.” He swallowed thickly and said nothing. “Was it because of your brother? Did you want to give it up for him?”

His blood boiled at that, and he turned to Axel, fury in his eyes. “You told him?!” Roxas shrieked, coming towards the redhead with his hands balled into fists.  
  
In a flash, Vanitas was armed again, and fired a single shot. The bullet tore through his leg, and he was down almost instantly. Vanitas blew imaginary smoke from the muzzle of his pistol and his lips curved up, a crooked grin taking over from his usual apathy.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this started out as a "wrong-car au" where Ven just. got into Vanitas' car by mistake. It was kinda cute, and then I was like, "it'd be a shame if someone..... ruined it...." Now it more closely resembles the modern verse I have on my Vanitas RP, called "the perfect storm" (when the powerful meet the power-hungry) 
> 
> If anyone is going to get on me about this fic's content, just know, it's not that deep fam.


End file.
